I much prefer the way you blow the whistle... " I smiled.She giggled and patted the seat next to her. I got in, and we put the convertible top up. I h...nched down as she had suggested, amazed again at how truly dedicated she had become to keeping our affair alive, and we sped off into the afternoon.As it was I was pretty content to let her drive. I was not all that good with a stick shift yet, but she was quite comfortable with it, so it was easier to let her continue. Besides, I wanted to look. The commotion outside had brought back memories of the day when I, too, said goodbye to loved ones as my train rolled away. I pictured my mother’s face as I had last seen it, lines etched on her brow, having already agonized over my sister’s departure to America weeks before. Her grey eyes had been misty, but she shed no tears. My father had stood beside her. His bushy mustache and neatly combed hair shone silver in the early morning sun. They had each taken a turn embracing me, before the. More

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